The Scholar and the Brawler
by Rydain
Summary: Lu Meng manages a full schedule of research and teaching. Cao Ren supervises his cousin's business and schools the local riffraff. A bad day crosses their paths with potential for friendship and more. Modern alternate universe slash.
1. So much for serendipity

**The Scholar and the Brawler**

_Lu Meng manages a full schedule of research and teaching. Cao Ren supervises his cousin's business and schools the local riffraff. A bad day crosses their paths with potential for friendship and more._

_Set in a gay-friendly modern alternate universe. Rated T for language and eventual romantic situations._

* * *

The bus jolted over a bump in the road, shaking Lu Meng out of slumber. He yawned and stretched, trying to get rid of the crick in his neck. At least the day was done, which was more than he could say for it earlier.

Meng had gone to university to finish some work. He left with a heap of frustration. A forgetful colleague had not yet returned the journals Meng had been referencing. Around interruptions from a loudmouth who ignored the office hours sign on his door, Meng had red-penned a whopping eight essays from his World History students before getting pulled into a meeting that ran in circles for the rest of the afternoon. He had fought sleep all the way through said meeting and given up on the way home.

The bustling city panorama outside was difficult to place. A convenience store looked familiar, but the nearby intersection did not. Nor did various shops that Meng never recalled seeing on this route he took several times a week.

Just when he thought his luck couldn't get any worse, Meng had slept through his stop.

Meng disembarked at the next subway station, frowning at the YOU ARE HERE dot in an unfamiliar corner of the map. He had napped long enough to wind up on the other side of the city. Judging from the tangled route ahead of him, the trip back would take at least half an hour.

Judging from the growl in his stomach, his waking hunger would become a beast by the time he arrived. Meng had skipped breakfast, grabbed a sandwich for lunch, and found no time for anything more substantial between the annoyances of his day. He sighed. On top of everything else, his kitchen was overdue for restocking. Dinner at home would be more like making do with a can of soup and some cereal.

The bus had passed by several restaurants within walking distance of the subway. Meng stopped at the closest, a hole in the wall called Paragon, and ruled out the others with a glance over the menu displayed next to the door. The food selection conjured enticing thoughts of homemade noodles, fresh-baked bread, and tender meat zesty with herbs and a hint of char from the grill.

Tucked away in the building's basement, Paragon was a cozy den well-appointed in dark wood and plush carpet. Hidden fixtures cast low, warm light over booths, sturdy tables, and a gathering of formally dressed people in a corner of the room. Meng ran a hand through his windblown hair, wishing he would have bothered to pull it back, and swatted at the wrinkles in his khakis and flannel shirt. He scratched his stubble as if it could retract back into his face. When the dapper, bow-tied host took brisk strides in his direction, Meng half expected to be rudely informed of a dress code.

Instead, the man smiled. "Would you like a table, sir?"

And he showed Lu Meng to a booth and whisked the professor's worn leather satchel into the coat room for safekeeping.

* * *

"I told you." Yuan Shu sprayed crumbs on the table as he talked through a mouthful of bread. "I've been telling you. I just want a fair deal is all."

Cao Ren leveled his gaze. "And we've been offering you one. We haven't even asked you to pay for the repairs needed to meet building code although it should be your expense. After all, you were responsible for neglecting the property."

Yuan Shu smirked at his nephew. "You hear that, Xi? First he wants to rip us off, now he's going to flush all his money down the drain when he gets his hands on that shithole."

"When, you say, as opposed to if?" Cao Cao piped up. "So you do agree to our proposal."

"No! I never said that. What, you have cement for brains like that blockheaded friend of yours?"

Cao Ren went back to eating dinner as his boss took over the conversation. Sure. Cement for brains for refusing to be bent over a barrel, kicked in the nether regions, and rolled downhill. Cao Cao wasn't about to fold. Even as a kid, Ren's cousin could talk his way out of trouble like no other. He would get sent to detention, leave with a graham cracker and a gold star for behaving himself, and be dismissed with mild parental annoyance when he got home. With a business degree and a modest startup loan, Cao had parlayed his shrewdness into a thriving property management firm. Just out of high school without a career in mind, Cao Ren had jumped on board as an assistant. Between his organizational skills and his knack for winning cooperation from angry tenants, reluctant service technicians, and difficult colleagues, Ren worked his way up to a comfortable position as an asset manager.

If anyone at the table had a skull full of inert gray matter, it would be the crumb-spewing, gaudy-suited buffoon across from them. Under Yuan Shao's leadership, Noble Enterprises had lived up to its name. Its properties, including the shithole under negotiation, had been reasonably priced and well-maintained. When Shao retired and handed over the reins to his cousin, the downward spiral began. Yuan Shu jacked up rent and put off repairs until buildings threatened to collapse into a pile of tissue paper walls and drafty windows. He refused to fix anything else. As far as he was concerned, the anything in question would inevitably get smashed or torn up or pissed on. Better to bribe housing inspectors and evict whiny tenants, throwing a pittance at the few who threatened lawsuits. The leftover cash went to bullying more owners into selling their property.

Thus turned the money machine at the expense of those with the least to give, feeding the formerly Noble empire as its cancerous blight spread throughout the city. And the disputed canker of an apartment building, right in the middle of the community where the Caos had lived since childhood, was too close to home for comfort.

"I think they're being perfectly fair," Zhen Ji interjected. "You told me that place cost more to maintain than-"

Yuan Xi shot her a pointed look. "Did I bring you here to talk?"

Zhen Ji pressed her lips together and focused on the remains of her salad. Who on earth knew what this stately woman saw in a lummox like Yuan Xi, but her presence at the meeting was no mystery. Cao Pi's attention had been drifting into the low-cut neckline of her slinky silk dress all night. The kid had inherited Cao Cao's libido, but his father's discretion would have to be learned. Pi concealed his wandering eye as well as Cao Ren's cat hid during thunder storms, sticking his head under the bed while the rest of him huddled in a gray loaf on the floor.

Ren hoped he was more adept at hiding his glances at the fellow across the room eating dinner alone. His tousled dark hair was long over his shirt collar, his profile chiseled, his eyes thoughtful under knitted brows. Those eyes met Ren's and dropped back to the table before he could make any sense of their expression.

The conversation droned on until Yuan Shu made a big show of shoving his chair back and standing up. "Maybe we should just leave, seeing as you're not really interested in a deal."

"You do that, then." Cao Cao raised his hand for the check.

"Wait!" Yuan Shu lunged over the table to stop him, prompting a glare from Xiahou Dun. Some years back, Dun's short-leashed temper had cost him an eye. He focused the remaining one on his cousin's well-being.

Cao Ren resisted a smile as Yuan Shu settled down. Though Shu continued to play his broken record of baloney until the meeting reached an ambiguous conclusion, his outburst had made the eventual outcome clear. He was in no position to bend anyone over a barrel after all.

* * *

Lu Meng twirled the few remaining bits of pasta onto his fork and savored the last bite of dinner. He signaled a waiter, stacking his empty plates while he waited.

"Would you care for coffee or dessert?"

"Just the check, please." Even if Meng had saved any room, it was long past time to go home.

"Very well." The waiter retrieved the bill and Meng's satchel, handling it with the care and flourish one would expect for a designer briefcase.

Meng set a wad of cash on the table and left the restaurant, full of delicious food and pleasant thoughts of that businessman with a square, broad-featured face and stocky build to match. His eyes had remained calm throughout heated blustering from others at the table, and Meng could have sworn they lingered on him once or twice. Not that glances across a room had to mean anything, much less lead anywhere, but there was no harm in enjoying the memory. And perhaps Meng would run into the stranger again. That fettuccine was some of the best he'd ever eaten, well worth another late evening sometime in the future.

It had grown dark, and hieroglyphic layers of neon glared in the dimness of the streets. Meng picked up his pace, telling himself to put a lid on the paranoia. Nobody was following behind. Nobody was sneaking up on him. He simply disliked being out late and not knowing where he was, especially when he had so much work to do at home.

The subway station was a fluorescent oasis in the neighborhood's unfamiliarity. Meng reviewed his route and then headed for the stairs. A hard shove sent him tumbling down as his satchel was ripped from his hand. By the time he stopped the fall and righted himself, it was too late. Aside from a couple of curious onlookers who walked off as Meng got up and brushed the dirt from his clothing, the stairwell mouth was an empty rectangle.

Meng bumbled his way downstairs in a half-blind haze, the bliss of dinner forgotten under storm clouds lowering in his head. By all appearances, his missed stop had been light at the end of the tunnel he'd slogged through all day.

It turned out to be the cruelest joke of all. Meng had actually been looking up a sewer pipe with no way to know the difference until he got bowled over in a flood of shit.

Meng slid into a window seat on the train, sagging back against the headrest to stare at the bland darkness of the tunnel. Floor crud streaked his pants, which had been fresh out of the dryer this morning. Lumps on his legs ached dully, sure to bruise up into painful Technicolor within the next few days. Dinner weighed in his stomach like concrete at thoughts of the sticky notes throughout his books and the research drafts on his laptop. All those coffee-fueled nights of poring over fine print for a rare quote or nugget of insight, all that text unraveled from the Gordian knots of analysis spun in his head - gone and wasted in one act of petty theft.

And though the thief had added injury on top of insult, nobody had seemed to care. No one had even hollered to see if Meng needed help. A random stranger couldn't have done much for him. Meng had a ride home and a way to get in because his transit pass and keys were zipped in a pants pocket that he thankfully hadn't landed on during the bumpy trip downstairs.

Still, it was the thought that counted, and sometimes it didn't count enough. So much for the notion that Meng's missed stop had turned into a lucky find.

So much for serendipity.


	2. What goes around comes around

Gan Ning darted down an alley and vaulted over the wall at the end using a trash bin as a springboard. He kept up his pace through the back streets, prize firmly in hand and familiar grin bright on his face. His collection of gold chains jingled as he ran. The old bag he had swiped wouldn't be worth much, but Ning was never one to resist a quick score. And that sucker skidding down the subway stairs on his ass with his mouth hanging open like a Looney Tune? Priceless.

Some fool had tried to tail him, some slowpoke who would undoubtedly lumber over to the wall and give up and go home. Ning was the wind. Ning was a thunderbolt in his slick orange track suit and matching trainers. Ning was

_THUMP!_

sprawled on the ground, unwilling sandwich meat between dead weight on his chest and sharp bits of gravel digging into his back. The dead weight in question was a dark-suited oaf who had jumped out of nowhere and clotheslined him.

"Hey!" Ning flailed at his captor, who looked more bored than threatened. "Get off me, you load!"

Cao Ren took hold of Ning's throat like a vise as the thief realized that his choice of words might not have been the wisest. Ning was not known to think before opening his mouth.

Ning was also a slow learner. He continued to flail and got more pressure on his neck as a reward.

"No funny business. Are we clear?"

Ning settled down and sputtered agreement. Ren loosened his death grip.

"Why did you take this bag?"

"C'mon. Y'know how it is."

Ren looked at him, apparently not knowing how it was.

Time for the old charm. "A guy's gotta eat?"

Ren sifted through the pile of gold around Ning's neck, lifting a medallion between thumb and finger as if it were a week-old gym sock. "Sell some of this foolishness if you are that strapped for cash." He got up and hauled Ning to his feet by a handful of chains. "Or make an honest living instead of preying on others."

"Strange one to bitch about bad behavior, Mr. Almost Choked Me to Death," Ning sneered. "You're no saint."

"Only to bullies like you."

Ren picked up the satchel and walked off down the alley. Rubbing his sore neck, Ning scowled at the snags in his track suit and the fresh scuffs on his shoes. Here he'd been, minding his own business. Then this stone-faced stuffed shirt had felt the need to throttle him halfway into the grave and wreck his style over some stupid bag that nobody was ever going to miss. So who was supposed to be at fault in this situation?

"You want bullying? I'll give you bullying," Ning muttered.

He sprinted off and easily closed in on Ren, who was still moseying along like he was carting milk home from the store. Ning took a flying leap and ate an elbow in the stomach before Ren even turned around.

Ning staggered against the alley wall, doubled over in pain. A trashed outfit, a bellyache, and nothing to show for it...this hadn't been such a great idea after all.

* * *

"Don't be silly." Cao Ren shooed Shadow off the kitchen table. "There isn't any room for you in there."

The cat habitually sniffed anything that Ren brought into the apartment. If there were a possible way for him to climb into the thing in question, he'd give it his best shot. Ren had taken a few seconds to grab a drink and found Shadow nosing under the flap of the leather satchel he had just set down.

A punk kid had been running up the street with the bag under his arm. The satchel was oversized and well-weathered. The kid wore about five pounds of bling and a Day-Glo track suit the color of a traffic cone. Ren did the math and approached the kid, who then veered into a nearby alley and cleared the dead end wall with a dumpster-assisted leap.

High school football was a decade in the past, but the lessons stuck for life. Ren didn't challenge the fleet-footed string beans to a full blast sprint. He outmaneuvered them. And this string bean had done most of the work for him, taking a one-way trip into a maze of back streets with a single alternative exit. Once Ren followed him, it was a simple matter of waiting. His martial arts training and general indestructibility had taken care of the rest. Hopefully the kid had learned from the experience after he finished crying over his ruined clothes. Ren didn't derive any particular joy from tackling troublemakers, but he had to admit that it was funny to see this one get his shorts in a twist about something so trivial.

An address card was set in a clear pocket underneath the satchel flap. Wondering if the information was current, Ren searched for it online. The only Lu Meng in the city turned out to be a history professor. Meng had pulled his hair back for the photo posted on the department website, but his face was unmistakable. He had the rugged features and deep eyes of the mystery man at Paragon.

Ren had intended to drop the bag off at a police station. Instead, he would deliver it personally.


	3. A most welcome delivery

Rapping at the apartment door roused Lu Meng out of his fitful sleep. Pulling on a shirt, he grumbled at the interruption and kept on grousing when he caught a glimpse of the time.

Meng looked through the peep hole and the grumbles vanished. He had seen something so wondrously surreal that he pinched himself for good measure.

The universe really had felt the need to make up for raking Meng over the coals yesterday. After the sting of fingernails on bare skin, that businessman from Paragon was still waiting out in the hall with Meng's lost satchel in hand. His full beard and mustache were trimmed short, his dark hair gelled back into casual spikes.

Meng opened up, not bothering with the conventional wisdom of chaining the door. Even if this guy wasn't as trustworthy as his placid expression implied, he could tear the flimsy chain from its moorings with a shoulder bash or two.

"Dr. Lu?"

Meng nodded, put further at ease by the visitor's deep, pleasant tone of voice.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to knock at a bad time."

"Oh, no. It's fine. I should have been up an hour ago." Indeed, it was well past noon.

The man indicated Meng's cell phone in the front of the bag. "I tried to call ahead, but the number on the address label goes to this."

"Believe me, it's fine." Meng had thought the satchel was gone for good. His police report had received generic assurance that the cops would do everything they could. With what little they had to go on, that would not amount to much. Meng couldn't even describe the mugger who had knocked him down the stairs.

Meng rifled through the bag. His laptop was strapped into place with library books nestled alongside it. His music player had not gone anywhere, nor had any of the other assorted belongings crammed into various pockets and pouches. Spare change, which Meng usually forgot to collect and cash in, rattled around in the bottom of the bag. "Everything's still here. How did you find this?"

"I chased the thief and took it back from him."

Meng had the idea that his mouth was drawing flies. This stranger had gone Batman on a thug for his sake? "I...you didn't have to do that."

The man shrugged. "I couldn't just let him get away with it."

"But you could have been hurt. You weren't, were you?"

"Don't concern yourself. It was a typical kid, all show and no go."

"Still, you deserve more than just thanks." Meng opened the door further. "Want to come in?"

"Sure." The man smiled and offered a hand. "Cao Ren, by the way." Meng shook, expecting to get his fingers crushed. Ren's grip was firm and controlled.

Meng remembered the pile of dirty dishes in the sink and the laundry basket he had not yet put away. His hair was a puffball and his randomly chosen shirt sported a coffee stain. As Ren perused the overstuffed bookshelves in the living room, Meng hid the worst of the household clutter, threw on nicer clothing, and combed his wavy mane into a low ponytail. There was no time to shave, but he couldn't win them all. He finished his tidying spree to find Ren parked on the futon, leafing through a cloth-bound tome.

"Sorry about the mess." Meng rambled on before he could stop himself. "The dishwasher's been broken all week and I haven't had time to clean. Maintenance around here is a joke. I should move, but I don't have time for that either."

"Don't worry about it. I'm more interested in your library. Quite impressive, I must say."

Meng smiled. "I've always been a bookworm. And a pack rat, too. I never know when I want to reread something."

"I ought to read more myself. It's a good habit to keep." Ren raised an eyebrow at a woodcut of a heretic burning at the stake. "To think that people used to get killed over their choice of reading material."

"And they would throw the books into the flames along with the unfortunate person caught with them. Ah, the Spanish Inquisition. Truly a low point for humanity." Meng unearthed a favorite text about the Age of Enlightenment from the stack on his end table. "I suggest you read this after you've had your fill of torture."

"I'll take you up on that." Ren set the tome of torment aside and began to flip through a more uplifting time period. "Much better, right down to the pictures of things on fire." He held up a drawing of a model house being ignited with static electricity, demonstrating how buildings would blaze when struck by lightning. "I never heard of a thunder house until now."

"Nifty, isn't it? I guess you could say Franklin invented infomercials along with the lightning rod."

"Nifty indeed. I wish I would have known about this back in the science fair days, but there's a reason they don't teach such things to kids."

"From the stories I've heard out of the chemistry department, some adults shouldn't be learning it either." Meng wrinkled his nose at the memory of a few choice tales from a colleague. Some of the freshmen could not be trusted with matches, let alone experiments involving flammable gases and astronaut levels of protective gear. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water would be fine."

Meng fetched him a glass. "I'd offer you a beer, but I'm all out." Of all the weeks to be lazy about grocery shopping, this one took the cake. At least he had remembered to freeze some ice cubes.

Ren shrugged. "It's a bit too early for that anyhow." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, I have to go soon. I'm meeting someone for lunch."

As they continued to chat, Meng wondered who that someone was. He had some conversational gambits at the ready by the time Ren got up to leave. _You can borrow that book. I still owe you a beer. Maybe I'll see you at Paragon sometime. _But the words stuck to his tongue as he showed his guest to the door.

"It was nice to meet you. And thanks again for returning my bag."

"Don't mention it." Ren fished in his pocket and handed over a business card. "And give me a call if you do find time to move."

Once again, promises of future contact were Velcro in Meng's mouth. All he could muster was a casual goodbye.


	4. Afternoon

As he drove across town, Cao Ren turned up some cheerful rock music and rolled down the window to enjoy the bright, warm day outside. His cautious side tried to pull him back to earth, suggesting that Lu Meng had only played host out of gratitude. Even so, two strangers on the same couch could have remained as such. Ren and Meng had dived into banter with both feet. If it weren't for this lunch appointment, they might still be poring over the past together.

The Palms Cafe was busy as usual. Cao Cao had been sitting behind some of the abundant potted foliage that gave the place its name, and Ren did not spot his cousin until he got up and waved. He made his way over and sat down to the iced tea and appetizers that had already been delivered to the table.

"Sorry I'm late. It's a long story."

"Is it a good story?"

Ren took his time with the menu as he mulled it over. His nervousness embarrassed him, but he couldn't think of any better audience.

"I'd say so." Ren launched into the tale of the recovered satchel and his interest in its owner, certain that his face was the color of the bruschetta topping in front of them.

"Finally!" Cao laughed. "You've been missing out."

"Says the man who needs an assistant to keep track of his lady friends. Everyone's missing out to you."

"Perhaps. When's the last time you dated?"

"High school. Let's not go there." Ren's experience in the wild world of love had consisted of unrequited crushes and one short-lived relationship with a football groupie. Teenage hormones took them through the first week. When they stopped kissing long enough to talk, Ren realized that her train of thought never left the station. He ditched her and she got together with a second string quarterback more interested in groping than discourse.

"Ah, yes. Now I remember."

"Since then, it's been work work work. Would I like to see someone? Sure. But it's never something I wanted to go out and hunt for."

"I told you you're missing out." Cao sipped his drink. "The chase is half the fun."

"Fun?" Ren snorted. "Going to clubs where you can't even hear yourself think over the music? Sex first, talk later, hope there's some common ground other than your bedroom?"

"Hey, at least it gets you laid."

"I suppose." Ren fixed himself another piece of bread. "The kiddy version of that was more than enough for me. I don't see how it gets any better."

Cao shrugged. "Different strokes for different folks."

The waiter stopped back with another pitcher of tea to take their lunch order and make certain that Cao Cao approved of his dining experience. Cao assured him that the appetizers were delicious and they had plenty of napkins and sugar and anything else they could possibly need. With such natural magnetism, apparent even when he wasn't working it to charm someone, small wonder Cao always had his pick of partners. Ren was guarded by default, and the walls only came down after he got to know people well enough. Before his visit with Lu Meng, Ren couldn't remember the last time he had talked so easily with a brand new acquaintance.

"So, this professor. He does know that you'd like to talk with him again?"

"I left him my card because he said something about moving."

Cao grinned. "Business and pleasure? Well played."

"Oh, shut it."

* * *

Lu Meng pushed back his chair and got up for a well-deserved break. He had blown through a stack of essays and moved on to the notes peppered throughout his reference books. The latest batch of citations had dislodged a monkey wrench in the cogs of Meng's brain, inspiring entire sections of research paper that had been eluding him for the past week.

His mood certainly helped, buoying him with sunshine he hadn't felt for years. A couple of Meng's college friendships had turned romantic and then meandered along to some point of mutual dissolution. After that, the whirlwind of academia only picked up its pace. He had little opportunity to see people he already knew, much less go out to bookstores and coffee shops and lectures in hopes of meeting more. No time for love, Dr. Lu, or even friendship.

Until now, when he had lucked into quite an intriguing acquaintance. Meng knew little about Cao Ren in the traditional sense, but he didn't mind. They had gotten along splendidly, and that left Meng wanting to learn more.

Meng poured himself a glass of milk, glancing over the Phoenix Properties card that he had stuck to the fridge with a magnet. A cynical voice wondered if Ren had mainly dropped in on the chance that he could promote his business, but Meng put it out of his mind. He'd dealt with his share of slick-talking hucksters. Ren was nothing like them.

One disgusted taste and the warm, halfway to rancid milk went right down the sink. Other contents of the refrigerator were at a similar temperature although the dial had not been touched in months. Good thing Meng had never made it to the grocery store. He would have had a fridgeful of food on its way to becoming a mold farm.

Meng called the building maintenance hotline, had a brief conversation, and hung up with a sigh. Sometime next week, they said, just like the dishwasher. At this rate, the fridge wouldn't be fixed until next month.

He picked up the phone again to make a different call. Even if Ren's overtures were just business after all, Meng was past due for a new apartment.


	5. A whirlwind tour

Lu Meng outlined some lesson plans for the upcoming week, trying to keep his attention on work rather than on the cell phone that had sat silent all day long. Maybe Cao Ren hadn't gotten his message. Maybe he was off or sick or busy. Maybe Meng's analytical powers would be best focused on something that he actually had control over.

A soft knock on Meng's door made him jump - although it was only Lu Xun, a freshman taking World History as an elective. Wide-eyed and hesitant as usual, Xun seemed more like a suspect standing before a judge than a student dropping in during office hours.

Meng smiled, hoping to put the kid at ease. "Thanks for stopping by, Xun. Have a seat."

Xun perched on the edge of a chair, still hanging onto his backpack straps as if he were wearing a parachute. "I just wanted to- Did you look over my paper yet?"

"Yes, I did." Meng started rooting through a pile for the paper in question. "It was a major improvement from the one before."

Xun sagged with relief. "I'm so glad. I really put a lot of work into it."

"I could tell. The ideas were better organized, and you gave more citations to back them up."

"I had someone read the rough draft and point out the confusing parts. You're right. It can be hard to see those yourself."

Meng located Xun's essay and handed it to him. "Feel free to look this over. We can discuss it now if you wish."

Xun brushed shaggy brown bangs out of his eyes and flipped through the paper, taking in margin notes and lines around sections that could use further revision. "Guess I still have a ways to go."

"I wouldn't put it like that. Think in terms of how much you progressed since the last assignment. You're here to learn, not to be perfect on your first try. And you're certainly learning."

"But there's even more red ink on this one."

Meng smiled. "Perhaps, but it's a different sort of red ink. I gave you a higher level of critique this time."

"And that's good because it means my work was ready for it?"

"Precisely."

"Awesome." Xun set the essay on Meng's desk and pointed out a marked passage of text. "I see what you mean with some of your notes, but I don't really get this part. I put more information in here because I didn't have enough in the last paper. How do you know when there's too much?"

"That's what I'm here for. Let me have a look."

Somewhere during Meng's explanation of selecting specific points to focus on, his phone buzzed, rattling on the desk. Meng jumped as if a fire alarm had gone off. The name on the display panel only added to his nervousness.

"Is it important?"

"I can call them back later."

"It's okay." Xun stood up. "I should go study anyway."

Meng nodded. "Good deal."

He reached for the phone, which clicked off before he could answer. Meng took a breath and returned the call.

Cao Ren picked up on the first ring. "Phoenix Pro- Oh! Hello, Dr. Lu."

"Hi. I had called about looking at apartments."

"Yes. I got your message. I know of several places that might interest you. Are you free this evening?"

"I will be in about half an hour." Finishing a load of work over the weekend had given Meng plenty of leeway to put off more research and grading. On the other hand, office hours were non-negotiable, even if he expected few other visitors this late in the day.

"Great. Would it be all right if I picked you up from campus?"

"Of course."

They agreed on a nearby location, and Meng pondered the best way to kill the pesky chunk of time between now and then. Once-manageable paperwork piles had become drifting dunes trying to take over his desk. He picked up a bunch to look through. Now was as good of a time as any to throw out the trash and dig for treasure.

* * *

Lu Meng locked up the office five minutes before his official closing time. It was nothing. It would prevent some last-minute windbag from making him late. And it would give the jitters one last chance to chill out before he met up with Cao Ren.

On one hand, it seemed silly to be nervous. Meng wasn't standing on his porch with a church suit, wilting carnation, and a prayer that the prom king had been serious about asking him to the dance. He was embarking on a business transaction. Perhaps Meng would like one of the available apartments, and perhaps he would not.

But a similar coin toss of likability applied to Ren. In this regard, Meng really was that shy kid hoping for the best. His ride was going to show up, which took one concern out of the equation, but what would they think of each other after they spent some time together?

A sleek gray compact car pulled into the bus lane and tooted its horn. Ren leaned over and pushed the passenger door open for Meng as he approached.

"Thanks for the ride." Meng attempted to juggle his satchel and the seat belt until Ren took his cargo and set it in the back. "And for dealing with my bag yet again."

"Any time." Ren nodded. "Ready to roll?"

And off they went, with Ren giving an overview of the place they were about to visit. Some agents had misleading ideas of convenience. "Minutes from campus" meant a bus trip that was more like half an hour on a good day. Meng had once looked at an apartment that was, as advertised, less than a mile away - from the most remote university building, a long haul from his office in central campus. Ren displayed an honest understanding of the concept. Even with the heavy afternoon traffic, their ride was short.

On the way out of the car, Meng noticed its license plate. "Rockman, eh?"

Ren smiled. "It's a football nickname that stuck with me after high school was over. My teammates called me that for blocking guys twice my size. My cousins picked it up because I'm the most stubborn one in the family."

"I never had much talent for organized sports. What was it like to play?"

"The football part was a blast. The rest was something else." Ren held the building door open for Meng. "So much macho rage directed at whatever school we'd be playing next. I never got that. It's a game, not war."

"Sounds like what I remember from the one pep rally I went to. After that, I would sneak off and hide in the library instead."

Ren laughed. "Good plan. You didn't miss much, believe me."

"I see how people like to be excited about their team and razz the other guys and such. But why so serious? Sure, let's go beat the Tigers and all, but it's not worth getting angry over."

"Few things are."

They walked down the hall to the first stop of their tour. Ren led the way through a bedroom, living area, and modest kitchen, all clean and bright where Meng's current lodgings were dingy and in need of new paint. Meng struggled to focus on updated fixtures and efficient storage space rather than the flex of Ren's broad shoulders in his crisp blue shirt. His eyes strayed south to a different rear view and he jumped when Ren turned around without warning.

"What do you think?"

Meng nearly blurted out a most unintended answer. "About the apartment? I like it. It's well-kept and convenient. I could take a quick bus ride to campus or get a bike. It wouldn't even take me that long to walk. And it's just the right size for me. Nothing excessive."

"Do you want to stop here or keep looking?"

Oh, if only he knew. "Let's keep looking. It's always good to see all the options."

Instead of returning to the car, Ren directed them up the street to a brownstone with a decorative facade that must have been original. "I think you'll like this one even more. That is, I hope you will. It was a recent project of mine."

The building looked familiar, but Meng only had a vague idea of why. "A renovation?"

"Yes, and an extensive one at that."

Meng figured out his deja vu when he spotted the carved banister of the wide staircase leading up from the lobby. So this was the same brownstone where Dr. Zhuge had lived a few years back. One midwinter visit had told Meng all he needed to know about the place. Floors sagged. Spiderweb cracks worked their way across walls. Ceilings were stained with sickly yellow water damage. When the apartment's only radiator kicked in, the living room became a blast furnace. Yet the kitchen remained so cold that some of the energy wasted on the ineffective heating system could have been reclaimed by unplugging the fridge. The building did have some interesting architectural detail, but it was more dilapidated than redeeming.

And what an overhaul it had undergone. Ugly industrial flooring in the lobby had been replaced with stone tile. The staircase was covered in well-kept carpet rather than a threadbare runner that threatened to trip some unlucky visitor. Walls were smoothly plastered, woodwork dark and gleaming where it had once been tired and gouged.

The apartment itself was a vintage haven, solidly floored in rustic hardwood that had been recovered from other old buildings. Its modern appliances coordinated with the overall style. Shelves had been installed in odd niches and corners, including the alcove surrounding a window in the expansive bedroom. Ren pointed out the recently serviced radiator and well-insulated windows, answering Meng's climate control concern before he had a chance to bring it up.

"That's a relief. One of my colleagues used to live here, and it got miserable in the winter. Every room was either too hot or too cold. I should have told the physics department that we found Maxwell's demon."

Ren laughed. "He's been exorcised. Still, you should know that the temperature might vary more than it would in a brand new building."

"I'm used to that. Mind if I look around some more?"

"Take all the time you like."

A small voice reminded Meng that the rent was a jump up from what he currently paid. It fell back into the distance as he retraced his tour. And when Meng took another gander at that bedroom nook, he was a goner. His desk would fit just so, with the usual assortment of books organized on nearby shelves rather than stacked in precarious towers. It was a perfect pocket of space for settling down to work with a mug of coffee and afternoon sunshine slanting through the window.

"Do you have any questions?"

"When can I move in?"

"Whenever you like." Ren smiled. "It seems that we have a winner."

"Yes, we do. And that's putting it lightly." Meng ambled around the living room, mentally sorting books into the built-in storage and pondering an ideal spot for his futon. "Sometimes they destroy buildings like this, rip out anything that was ever unique. The exterior remains the same, but it's only a shell. Go inside and you may as well be in any other boring place on earth."

Ren nodded. "This brownstone has personality. It would have been a shame to ruin that."

"You did far better than not ruining it. What you've done here is a work of art."

"Well, I can't take all the credit." Ren glanced at his feet. "Thank the designer I put in charge of the details. I'm not much for interior decorating."

"But you found the right person to consult, and you took aesthetics into account instead of going the generic route. All of that shows an appreciation for history."

"I guess it does. Which is funny, considering that I slept through most of it back in high school."

"You know what else is funny? So did I."

"You're kidding."

"I'm serious." Meng glanced at the time on his phone. "And getting hungry. I'm overdue for dinner."

"I could use a good meal myself."

They walked along in silence until Ren piped up. "What did you think of Paragon?"

"It was fantastic."

"I think so, too. Are you in a mood to celebrate your new apartment?"

Meng lit up like a Christmas tree. "Absolutely."


	6. A celebratory dinner

Lu Meng suspected he was in for a treat when the host at Paragon welcomed Cao Ren like family and seated the two of them without leaving menus. Tempted as he was to ask about the arrangement, Meng bit his tongue instead. No sense in wrecking the surprise.

A baby-faced, apron-clad man emerged from the kitchen with a basket of bread. Though his girth rivaled his height, he zipped over to their table in a matter of seconds.

"Hey there, Ren." The chef peered at Meng as if trying to place him. "Have I met your friend before?"

"Probably not. Dr. Lu Meng, this is Xu Zhu, the man in charge of the food around here."

Meng smiled. "And what excellent food it is."

"Thank you very much. I've got just the thing for Ren." Zhu turned to Meng. "How about you? What are you hungry for?"

"Anything, really. The whole menu looked good to me last time I was here."

"Is it all right if I surprise you?"

Meng glanced at Ren for advice and received a nod in return.

"Sure."

Zhu grinned. "You won't be sorry." He left the basket on the table and hustled back to work.

Ren and Meng went through the still-warm bread, which had been baked with a savory herb blend that they could only guess at, while discussing Meng's new lease and moving arrangements. After their planning was all squared away, the conversation returned to twists it had taken earlier in the evening. Ren asked how Meng had gotten into history although it bored him to slumber in high school.

"When taught poorly, history is dead and dull. Taught well, it's very much alive."

"Oh?"

"In high school, we got a long list of factoids without much in the way of context or meaning. Naturally, we understood the importance of big bang events like the signing of the Declaration of Independence. The rest was like the ledgers of a store that went bust years ago. Names. Numbers. So what? It's all long gone anyway."

"That's exactly how we learned it. I'd cram for the test and forget it all the next day."

"As would I. Anyway, I went to university without a major in mind. I liked to read and write and analyze, but I didn't know where to apply those interests. All I could do was take a variety of liberal arts classes to see what I liked best. My dorm mates had been raving about a particular professor, and there were a few spaces available in her section on totalitarian governments. So, to make a terrible pun - I gave it the old college try, and the rest was history."

"I've heard worse from cousin Yuan. Tell me more about this course."

"It was all about whys and hows, about the fear and lack of critical thinking that leads people to become part of a dangerous hive mind. On the flip side, we discussed how such attitudes could be dismantled over time. There were specifics, of course, but they fit into the narrative. Instead of memorizing laundry lists, we learned true stories worth retelling. When you know the mistakes of the past, you can avoid them in the future. And you can remember how to succeed, which is just as important."

"Just like business trends," Ren mused. "That ledger comparison is a good one. Some people focus on short-term numbers without any thoughts on what will happen in the long run. They pay employees peanuts and then wonder why they can't retain skilled workers. They go with cheap solutions that cost them time and money down the road. They waste windfall profit instead of using it wisely."

"That's my old place in a nutshell. Things break. Sometimes they get fixed. Sometimes the fix holds up. With the price of rent, you'd think they could afford to get it right the first time." Meng shook his head with a wry smile. "I bet the owner is driving around in a gold-plated Lamborghini with their idiot friends on executive payroll."

"Your building is a Noble property."

Meng nodded.

"We've dealt with them. Your suspicions aren't far from the truth."

Xu Zhu returned from his culinary domain with two sizzling cast iron platters atop wooden trivets. He deposited the skillets on the table, leaving pot holders along with them. "Dig in and enjoy! Just be careful not to burn yourself."

Meng's surprise turned out to be swordfish accompanied by rice and chunky fruit salsa. "Excellent - and just when I'd been thinking about ordering seafood. What did you get?"

"Blue rare steak. Zhu is one of the few I trust to cook this properly." Ren cut off a small piece. "Care to try it?"

Though Meng had never been much of a steak fan, he exchanged samples of dinner with Ren. A polite nibble turned him into a convert.

"I thought steak had to taste like shoe leather. This is something else." Meng followed up the tender, flavorful meat with a chunk of roasted potato. "It's juicy, it almost melts in your mouth..." He trailed off into a nervous smile. "Oh, that sounds bad."

Ren shrugged. "It's fine. I'm glad my meat passes muster." And as Meng sputtered with a barely contained gale of laughter - "Sorry. I'm not helping." But he seemed more amused than embarrassed.

"No worries." Rather than compare the steak's texture to the firm flakiness of his swordfish, Meng swallowed his giggle fit and decided on a topic not laden with innuendo. "So you had been talking about business. How did you get into your line of work?"

"About the same way that you decided on a career. I tried it out and it suited me." Ren took a swig of water. "I had no idea what I wanted to do after high school, and I didn't worry much about it. My grades were reasonable, but I never saw myself as an academic type. I was good at football but not great enough to go pro. That was fine with me. As I've said, games lose their fun when taken too seriously."

"Quite understandable."

"I thought about trade school until cousin Cao graduated university and bought a building to manage. He did so well that it was only natural for him to take on more property. Cao offered me an internship to talk with tenants and help him keep things organized. That led to a job and my first go at management. I started small - maintenance budgets, minor renovations, and so on. Later, I took over a property of my own. I now look after several, including the brownstone you're moving into. I handled every aspect of that building from acquisition to what you saw today."

"Impressive. Your work really does suit you."

Ren smiled. "There's nothing like seeing a project come to life."

"That's about how I'll feel when I get this damned research paper done."

Lively career discussion turned into sluggish appreciation for the food as Ren and Meng polished off dinner and relaxed into a contented sprawl. Sensing that dessert was out of the question, the host left their dinner check on the table instead of making his customary inquiry.

Meng reached for the leather folio, not realizing that he had been beaten until he wound up with Ren's hand instead.

Ren had begun a comment about this being his treat. He stopped mid-sentence when Meng did not pull away. In the low light of the restaurant, he seemed to be blushing.

Meng's mouth fell open before he had any concerns about being presumptuous. "Next time I'm paying."

"That's right." Ren grinned. "You still owe me a beer."


	7. We've got Movie Sign!

Xiahou Yuan announced himself with two thuds on the door and barged into Cao Ren's office without waiting for an answer. Though not fond of interruptions, Ren only nodded and began to gather the paperwork that his cousin needed. Yuan was a cheerful oaf with an unruly beard, a lion's mane of hair squashed under his baseball cap, and a sense of decorum unlikely to change any time soon.

"You should have told me you'd be stopping by. I could have had these ready for you ahead of time."

"Don't sweat it. I'm all done for the day." Yuan made himself comfortable in an armchair by the bookshelf. "We've been busting our balls, and I thought the guys deserved a break."

"Good plan. So you're almost caught up?"

"Getting there, but we made a lot of progress. I thought we'd be tearing up that subfloor for the rest of the week."

Ren smiled. "It's about time that job had a pleasant surprise for you."

Yuan worked for a contractor that did occasional renovations for Phoenix. His crew was updating the floors in a building with a legacy of shoddy maintenance that kept adding unforeseeable amounts of time to the project. Baseboard trim had been super glued in place instead of tacked on with finishing nails, so it had to be broken off the wall and replaced entirely. An innocuous roomful of worn carpet had hidden a thriving mildew colony. The latest nuisance had been a patchwork of leftover vinyl flooring layers that all needed to be taken out. As Yuan explained, corner cutting in previous remodeling had worked in their favor this time. Some of the vinyl was so poorly secured that it had peeled right up without much effort.

"Want to come over on Friday and watch the game? It's been a while."

"Can't." Ren finished sending documents to the printer and turned to a thick folder of invoices. "I have plans."

"What kind of plans?"

"I suppose you could call it a date."

Yuan had been leaning back in his chair. He almost fell over and righted himself with a thump. "Really? Nice! I gotta warn you, though."

Skeptical as he was about the value of said warning, Ren waited for Yuan to continue.

"If all goes well, you'll have a houseful like me before you know it!" Yuan and his wife were proud parents of four young boys. Their boisterous home resembled a cross between a wrestling ring and a Nerf battleground. Roughhousing and horsey rides gave Yuan a second wind after a long day on a job site. Having been roped into the horsey role himself on several occasions, Ren wasn't sure he agreed.

Ren gave him a look. "In my case, that can't happen by accident."

"What, there's something wrong with your junk? Sorry to hear it."

As Ren considered whether to dignify the comment with a response, Lu Meng poked his head into the office. Ren waved him in, and he dropped off the paperwork for his lease and then zipped out with no time to chat.

"New client?"

"Yes." And as an afterthought - "He's also my date."

"Oh! Okay. Didn't know you were into that. That's cool." Yuan gestured at his crotch. "Hey...whatever spins your drill bit and all."

Ren snorted. "Just when I thought your euphemisms couldn't get any worse."

"I aim to please."

* * *

Cao Ren returned from work to be greeted with a feline ankle dive bomb before he had any chance to sit down. Shadow paid Ren even more attention than usual whenever he was at home outside the normal weekday hours. When Ren was sick, the cat slept next to him. At other times, such as just now when Ren had left early to prepare for Lu Meng's visit, Shadow preferred to get in the way as often as possible. The cat continued to orbit as Ren headed to the bureau to exchange dress slacks for jeans. He sprawled out on the coffee table, watching Ren pick up stray pop cans and coasters to make room for the food that Meng had insisted on bringing over himself.

Meng's dusky, brooding good looks might have been the initial draw, but his brain was the main event. Some academic types prattled on to brag about their intelligence via obscurity of vocabulary and subject matter. Meng showed his smarts with a knack for witty conversation. He was a mind running at a mile a minute - sometimes subdued, sometimes animated, always down to earth. Ren didn't expect much opportunity to talk during whatever movie they decided on watching, but he would enjoy Meng's company regardless.

Shadow shot off the table in a blur, bolting for the bedroom even before the doorbell rang. The cat had a sixth sense when it came to hiding from people he didn't know. Ren opened the door to find Meng juggling his satchel, a six-pack of imported wheat beer, and a large bag of takeout.

Meng grinned. "Dinner is served."

"I'll say." Ren took the refreshments off Meng's hands before leading him inside. Meng had outdone himself. Ren was up for a hearty meal, but he wouldn't make much of a dent in Meng's haul. Judging from the unwieldy weight of the bag, there would be enough leftovers for the rest of the weekend. "I should have picked you up so you didn't have to take all that on the bus."

"No, it's okay. You surprised me last time, so I figured it was my turn."

Ren unpacked dinner, which turned out to be two enormous foil-wrapped burritos, a bag of tortilla chips, and a variety of side dishes and toppings. The spread took up most of the coffee table. "Looks good to me. I haven't had Mexican in a while." He took a whiff of spice-rich warmth wafting out of the containers. "Smells tasty, too."

"It is. It's from a little family-owned restaurant near my old place. The food is terrific and the portion generosity speaks for itself. That restaurant is about the only thing I like about where I live now. Too bad they don't deliver."

"I'm sure you can make it back now and then."

"Definitely." Meng looked over the elaborate tower of wood posts and carpeted shelves reaching up to the living room ceiling. "That's an impressive cat tree. It could almost be a piece of modern art."

"Cousin Yuan put that together for me. You may have seen him in my office when you stopped by the other day. Sorry I didn't introduce you, but you seemed to be in a hurry." A concern came to mind. "You aren't allergic, are you?"

"No, not at all. So where is kitty? I'd like to say hi."

"Probably in his usual hiding spot." Ren dug up a recent snapshot on his phone and handed it over. "I named him Shadow for his gray coat. As it turns out, he's scared of his own. I doubt we'll see him."

"Oh well...but what can you do?" Meng smiled at Shadow's picture. "He's a handsome fellow."

"And a friendly companion. You should see how he gets underfoot." Ren nodded at the feast awaiting them. "So. Dinner and a movie?"

They started in on the food while looking through the recommendations on Ren's download service. In between mouthfuls of chips and tangy corn salsa, Ren and Meng agreed that the Halloween lineup would be their best bet for finding something to watch. Neither of them had seen a horror movie in a while, and it seemed like the perfect time of year to fix that. They discussed the merits of creepy classics, old-school slasher gorefests, and campy creature features, keeping a few choices in mind as they moved along through more of the listing.

Ren scrolled past a giant puppet head that made Meng snort with amusement. "What is that thing? I think it's trying to hypnotize us."

"It's a ventriloquist dummy." The doll would have been endearingly ugly without that maniacal light in its eyes. Now curious himself, Ren expanded the movie description. "A cursed ventriloquist dummy, apparently. This looks like it could be great or awful. It's difficult to guess."

"Sounds pretty corny to me, but you never know. Besides, corny can be great if you're up for it. Weren't we looking at _Pumpkinhead_ a few pages back?"

"That we were."

After finishing up their search of the listing without finding much else to consider, Ren and Meng flipped a coin for the final decision. Meng won the toss, and they gave the possessed doll a chance to do its worst.

At first, the worst seemed promising. The titular dummy showed up as a mystery delivery. The husband left to get takeout. The wife's inevitable demise - as if any woman home alone ever survived the opening scenes of a typical horror movie - carried a real sense of dread, which Ren didn't often get from film.

And then it all slid downhill as the hero bumbled through a story not worth the suspension of belief required to buy it. Anyone else would have burned the dummy to ash or at least tossed it off the bridge with some bricks tied to its feet. This nitwit carted it around with him while demonstrating other failures of common sense. Considering his unblinking willingness to explore hallowed ruins that had a good chance of collapsing in on themselves if the ghost didn't kill him first - in this case, an abandoned lakeside theater straight out of Scooby-Doo - the vital concept of Don't Go In There never occurred to him.

Meng imitated a high-pitched voice in response to hearing a nursery rhyme one time too many. "Beware the tongue of Mary Shaw. She'll lick your block and tackle raw."

Ren had been taking a drink. He managed to choke it down instead of spraying beer all over his pants. "Now that's a scary thought."

The movie saved its absolute worst for last. It turned out that the hero's ill father had been carved up into a dummy, with his back flayed open to make room for the necessary hardware, so the evil stepmother could control him.

Ren winced at the imagined stench of the poor man's rotting insides. "Stupid as he was, you'd think the guy would have smelled that. Wouldn't it stink?"

"It does stink. That's got to be the goofiest plot device I've ever seen, and it had some serious competition from the rest of the movie." A sheepish smile. "Sorry I picked such a loser."

"Don't be. It was bad enough to be funny. Besides, you did very well with the food."

Meng grinned. "I thought you'd like a Kitchen Sink Burrito." True to its name, it had been stuffed with some strange and wonderful variety of rice, beans, seasoned meat, grilled vegetables, and melted cheese - everything but its proverbial title. It was also good for at least another meal. Ren and Meng packed up their dinner leftovers, agreeing that they were in the mood to watch another movie.

Ren flipped to the Mystery Science Theater 3000 collection. "How about something even worse with commentary?"

"Good call. The only question is exactly what. Teenage werewolves, zombies, teenage zombie aliens...it all looks great to me. Besides, I'd say it's your turn to pick."

"Fair enough." Ren considered some especially promising options and settled on _The Brain That Wouldn't Die._ "We can't go wrong with mad scientists and disembodied heads."

And they didn't. Just as expected, the original movie was a low-budget crapfest presented with inept melodrama - hammy acting, an overblown orchestral soundtrack, high-speed driving footage right out of an old filmstrip meant to scare high school kids into waiting about ten more years to get behind the wheel. Gleefully bad but not unbearably so, _Brain_ made excellent fodder for razzing.

Meng had been scooting closer over the course of the movie. He gave no sign of being bothered by Ren's arm stretched out behind him. And when it felt only natural for Ren to drop that arm around his shoulders, Meng snuggled close to his side. He leaned there, a warm and welcome comfort with a casual hand on Ren's thigh, as the severed head conspired with a beast locked in the closet for revenge against the experimenters who couldn't leave well enough alone. Even after the beast escaped, everyone died, and the credits rolled, the guys relaxed together with no plans to move.

"I'd say we should do this again at my place, but I don't have much of a home theater setup. My TV is about half the size of yours, and I'm way behind in the movie rental department. It's good old DVD for me."

"I'm sure it's fine. Or perhaps we could go somewhere instead."

"I'd like that. I don't get out and about nearly as much as I should."

Ren squeezed Meng's shoulder. "Then we'll talk next week and figure something out."

"I'm looking forward to it." Meng sat up. "I hate to call it a night, but I ought to get home sooner rather than later. My work's piling up on me again."

"Quite understandable. I'm getting tired myself." A double feature tended to have that effect. "I'll ride you home whenever you're ready to leave."

"Just give me a few minutes to hit the bathroom."

"Of course." Spotting a telltale lump high in the cat tree, Ren held Meng back for a second. "But you might want to look up first."

Content on his favorite shelf, Shadow stretched his toes and blinked sleepy green eyes. When Meng ventured over with a tentative hand, the cat gave him a curious sniff instead of fleeing to some dark corner of the apartment.

Meng smiled. "Kitty's feeling sociable, I take it?"

"I suppose he is. I've never seen him warm up to anyone so quickly."

As Meng started to scritch Shadow's neck, the cat decided he'd had enough stranger contact for one evening. In a flash, he was off the tree and back to one of his hideaways.

"Sorry about that. Did I spook him?"

"No, he just needs some more time around you. And when he gets that time, you'll have a friend for life." Ren smiled. "A friend who glues himself to your ankles and takes over your pillow."

"Sounds like a sweet deal to me."

As the guys packed up for the ride home, Ren thought the same about their growing companionship. Cao Cao could keep his fondness for the chase, as he called it, and all the games and bullshit that it entailed. Rather than hunter and prey, Ren and Meng were two peers on a common wavelength. They shared a straightforward bond, a friendship turning into deeper affection. Such a deal could only get sweeter from here on out.


	8. The more you learn

Lu Meng strolled across the campus quad with a spring in his step that felt more like floating. The day had dragged at a glacial crawl. Now that Meng's last class was over, a golden afternoon stretched before him to another promising night with Cao Ren.

Ren's calm, contemplative brand of handsome suited the man himself. He was smart and straight-spoken, put together without prissiness. Beyond the businessman's attire and neatly kept hair was one easygoing guy, rather than a telephone pole lodged in the butt crack and a pair of starched undies to go along with it.

Their movie night had ended with a warm goodbye and nothing else. Encouraged by Ren's couch cuddles, Meng had resolved to steal a kiss at the end of the evening. He lost his nerve when getting out of the car. Previous relationships had more or less just happened, with Meng agreeably going along for the ride instead of daring to initiate. He was not used to dealing with someone more reserved, but that would change tonight. No time like the present to buck up and go for it, especially when the road ahead was as clear as this unseasonably temperate day.

Near the history building, Dr. Zhuge Liang appeared from an anonymous group of walkers and fell in with Meng. "Nice shirt."

"Thanks." This particular dark green button-down was one of Meng's favorites. Meng had also pulled his hair back with a simple metal clip instead of the usual elastic, and he could not resist adding the rationale for dressing to impress. "I'm going out tonight."

"After the lecture, I presume."

Meng searched his mental calendar, which had an annoying habit of falling out of its binder into a mess of blurry numbers. And there it was - the guest speaker at the traveling Ben Franklin exhibit hosted by the university, who he'd sworn was slated for tomorrow evening instead.

"Don't tell me you forgot after giving your students a chance for extra credit based on this talk."

Meng shot him a look. "Don't tell me you're getting on my case about absent-mindedness when you still haven't returned my journals."

Liang nodded. "Point taken. Why don't we stop by my office and pick those up."

They did so, and Meng returned to his own office with the overdue reference material and a hope that Ren would soon get the voice mail that he had left while waiting for Liang to gather up the journals. Ren was not the type to get upset about a hiccup in their plans, but he deserved a heads-up. At least there was a silver lining to this snafu. Instead of wasting the hour before the lecture on the same old small talk with the same old people, Meng could occupy himself with some much-needed research.

* * *

Disappointed as he was to have his plans derailed by a mixup, Lu Meng refused to grump about it. He had been looking forward to this lecture. Thanks to history curricula and random reading, Meng's knowledge about Ben Franklin went beyond average familiarity. Yet it was a mere surface scratch in a vast body of information about the complex and influential man. Even a simple retelling of Franklin's life would teach him something new. Tonight's presentation, billed as _A Man of Music_, promised to delve into a specialty largely unbeknownst to Meng.

It did just that with an engaging tour through Franklin's compositions and appreciation of everything from opera to Scottish folk tunes. As a finishing touch, the presenter demonstrated a glass harmonica that Franklin had invented to play more complex harmonies than those possible with the water-filled wine goblets that were popular at the time. Its clear, delicate notes rang with a haunting touch of vibrato - a surprising sound unlike any that Meng had ever heard from a musical instrument.

Outside the auditorium was an even better surprise. Waiting at the doors of the nearby exhibit room where an assortment of Franklin's artifacts was on display, Cao Ren raised a casual hand when Meng spotted him.

"Hey." Meng discreetly touched Ren's arm. "Fancy meeting you here."

Ren smiled. "It's my pleasure. I hope the lack of notice isn't a problem."

"Not at all. I didn't give you much advance warning myself."

"It worked out well. I was already on my way over here, so I thought I would drop in on the lecture. And I'm glad I did."

Meng grinned. "So I'm guessing you stayed awake."

"Of course." Ren snorted. "I'd hope I learned better manners over the years. Besides, that was quite a talk. I never thought of Franklin as the type to write drinking songs."

"Most people don't. Before I read more about his life and work, I used to see him as a dried-up collection of puritanical proverbs. Turns out that Franklin had a snarky sense of humor, and he also placed great importance on relating to average Joes and Janes. He'd put cartoons in his newspapers to communicate with people who couldn't read."

Ren nodded. "A wise way to go. There's no point in sharing knowledge when it can't be understood."

They headed into the exhibit. Meng had given it a once-over during his lunch break earlier that week, but there was no harm in a second look. "If you're interested, I'll be happy to lend you that book you were reading over at my place. It goes into some detail about lesser-known Franklin factoids."

"So I remember. Speaking of which -" Ren indicated a display case with a model thunder house. "I wonder if these are ever used for demonstrations."

"I wish. Pyrotechnics would be a real big bang ender to a speech on innovations."

"Shouldn't the big bang go in the beginning instead?"

Meng laughed. "Only if the speaker has to be sprung out of a void."

"What comes first, the auditorium or the thunder house?"

"The headache I get trying to think about this sort of thing. Astronomy isn't my strong suit."

The guys continued to explore the collection of artifacts. They imagined antique printing equipment in use, wondered what sort of device could be run on a battery of glass jars, and waxed nostalgic over a handheld lens designed to focus light into an igniting glare.

"When I was a kid, I got in trouble at school for cooking bugs with a magnifying glass." Ren raised a mischievous eyebrow. "If only I could have claimed to be recreating Franklin's work."

"You too, eh? I tried to see if I could burn a leaf, but I wasn't smart enough to test one out on a safe surface. I wound up lighting a whole pile on fire instead." Meng grinned. "I don't think I could have called that a tribute to a man who put so much work into fire safety."

"Pffft. At that age, any excuse to get out of punishment would have been worth a try."

Meng nodded. "True."

"Dr. Lu!"

Meng recognized the earnest voice before turning around to see Lu Xun standing nearby.

"I just wanted to tell you the lecture was really neat. And this exhibit is cool too. I'm getting some great ideas for my assignment." Xun gave an awkward wave. "Anyway, see you in class."

Ren nudged Meng as Xun wandered off. "He likes you."

"Xun's a good kid. He's been putting a lot of work into his writing."

"I mean in a different sense. Did you see him staring?"

Meng shook his head with a sigh. The hot for teacher deal was far more of a bother than a boost to the ego. Last semester, a friend of his had dealt with a double dose of this problem in the form of giggling girls who showed up during office hours as a team and went into moon-eyed mode during his lectures. Until the two moved on to romantic interests their own age, the instructor had worried that his standard helpful dedication could be misconstrued as something else. Xun would certainly do the same, but that concern would still lurk in the meantime.

After the guys finished up their perusal of Franklin's work, it was time for the evening to move on as well. Ren started the dinner discussion as they headed out to his car. "Any thoughts on Oodles of Noodles?"

"Well, I am pretty hungry and I could do with pasta, if that's what you're asking. If it's a restaurant - never heard of it."

Ren smiled. "It is. Sounds like it will hit the spot."


	9. A moonlit path forward

Oodles of Noodles was a lively, casual place with tile-topped tables, colorful abstract artwork displayed on bright red walls, and an apt name. Its menu offered everything from Italian-style fare to East Asian dishes and a variety of pasta-based soups and salads. Stuck between too many choices for a coin flip or three to handle, Lu Meng turned to his dinner companion for recommendations.

Cao Ren picked up his menu, which he had set aside after a cursory glance. "What do you think of spicy food?"

"Depends. Some spice can be nice, but let's just say that I've always preferred medium salsa to lava in a jar."

"Then I wouldn't suggest the Szechuan basil chicken. It's a favorite of mine, but it is rather hot."

"I'd been thinking about trying that. I like basil. Oh well." Meng looked over the food selection again, intrigued by the thought of tofu, eggs, and Thai sauce with a healthy sprinkling of peanuts. "Have you had the pad thai?"

"Yes, and that's something I would recommend. It's very good here."

Even with a full house of customers, the restaurant ran as an efficient machine. A jaunty waiter strode over, scribbled down their order, and zoomed off. Glasses of water appeared like magic, followed by the cups of hot and sour soup that Ren had suggested as an appetizer. The main course arrived while Meng was still savoring his last few spoonfuls of artfully sliced vegetables and tangy broth.

Before starting in on dinner, Ren offered his chopsticks to Meng. "If you're feeling brave, you're welcome to try this."

"Sure, I'll give it a shot. Might as well play with fire." Meng grinned. "Sorry. That was bad."

The noodle sauce rode the edge of Meng's spice tolerance with a unique burst of flavor. As Meng started to nod approval, the burn ramped up to a mouth-scorching inferno that sent tears streaming down his face. He grabbed a napkin to soak up the waterworks.

"Too much?"

"That's an understatement." Meng chugged the rest of his water, which had all the effect of zapping a forest fire with a squirt gun. "If this is what you call rather hot, I'd hate to see what's really hot."

"I call it really hot if it has that same effect on me." Ren gestured at Meng's pad thai. "Water won't help. Eat some of that."

True to Ren's advice, a few hefty bites of noodles snuffed out the blaze like a blanket. The pad thai turned out to be just as good as it had looked. Its sweet and sour sauce complemented the subtle flavors of egg and seasoned tofu, and slivered green onions added a crowning touch of zest. "Now this is more like it."

Ren smiled. "I'm glad it's to your tastes."

"Too bad yours didn't work out for me, but I guess you can't win them all."

More in the mood for dining than discourse - especially in a restaurant with a line of customers waiting for a table - Ren and Meng worked through their noodles with a minimum of chit-chat. The dinner check showed up promptly after they set the chopsticks down in their empty bowls. As the guys paid up and left, they talked over their options for the rest of the night.

"We can go back to my place," Meng offered. There was his book collection and a few movies, and he had stocked his recently fixed refrigerator with a small variety of drinks. "Unless you had a different idea."

Ren nodded down the road where buildings gave way to a long expanse of trees and a sign for one of the many parks in the city. "How about a walk? You did say you'd like to get out and about more often."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

It had been a while since Meng had gone for an aimless amble. Walking was utilitarian, transportation, done and over with as soon as possible. With all of his typical rushing around, Meng tended to forget the joys of taking it easy. This balmy evening with Ren by his side was the right time for a slower change of pace.

The park was deep and relatively deserted. Aside from the occasional walker or jogger or cyclist, Ren and Meng had the place to themselves. Meng had been mentally sifting through the afternoon's research notes, but that line of deliberation soon faded away into the scenery.

"This was a great idea. Places like this have a way of clearing your head."

"That they do."

"I can certainly use the help. My brain is usually chewing on something or other to do with my work, and sometimes it doesn't want to shut off when it's supposed to. Such as now, with the second batch of midterms coming up." Meng stopped the thought before it set off a round of essay question brainstorming.

"Sounds like the season for work to pile up. I have another renovation on the way."

"Another doozy?"

"You could say that. There's not much building character to worry about, but this place is - pardon my French - a shithole."

Meng laughed. "Don't apologize for telling it like it is. Besides, you'll do fine."

Ren nodded. "I think so, too."

They wandered along in meditative quiet, appreciating the simple beauty of nature around them. Dry leaves of autumn rustled in the gentle breeze, which felt more like the promise of spring than the harbinger of winter. Soft light from wrought iron lamps gilded the treetops and the winding path ahead. The eye of the moon watched from on high, cool and distant and silver.

Faraway sounds of the city streets did not intrude on the peace of the park. Meng's voice of resolution was another story. With every surreptitious glance at Ren - his aquiline profile, his soft-looking beard, his hand casually close to Meng rather than tucked into a pants pocket - the silence became more and more of a dare. Meng weighed his options, wondering when he ought to make a move. There would be no perfect time to reach for that hand or blurt out any of the lines floating around in his head. This was about mutual interest, not the finer points of presentation, and said interest had already been established. Still, his old uncertainty was a tough nut to crack.

Ren spoke up when the trail branched into a sightseeing choice between sculpture gardens and a historic fountain. "Where do we go from here?"

Without worry, hesitation, or more than a fleeting appreciation for this gift-wrapped opportunity - corny as his answer might be - Meng turned Ren's face toward him and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

Ren took a wide-eyed second of surprise, and then he cupped Meng's neck and kissed him back in an ardent embrace spiced with heat from dinner. They held each other, relishing a moment of tender tranquility among the hustle and bustle of city life, and then drew apart before losing themselves entirely.

"Sculptures can wait. Let's head over to your place."

Meng grinned. "My thoughts exactly."


	10. It's official

Jiu-jitsu had all the rough and tumble fun of football and none of the macho stupidity. There was pride in self-improvement but no gloating over a victory, and other schools were to be learned from rather than laughed at. An evening of calisthenics, drills, and sparring had a way of refreshing Cao Ren's mind as much as it wore out his body. Especially when he was training with Xu Huang, who always put up a good challenge.

Ren and Huang took their stances and counted down together. Then came the dance of outfoxing - a lean here, a lunge there, a constant eye out for that upper hand. A feint by Ren, and Huang left a common opening in response. Ren grasped Huang's arms to take him down to the mat, but his friend weaseled out of the trap and pushed him over instead.

"Got that from the guest instructor." Huang tried to roll Ren on his back, but some stubborn strength put a stop to that. "You missed out, buddy."

"I know." Ren twisted himself around, jockeying for a more versatile position. "I had other plans."

"Ah, you blew us off for your boyfriend?"

"Companion." Ren snorted. "We're men, after all."

Personal preferences notwithstanding, the word brought a thrill of joy. Somewhere in the last several weeks of lunch dates and lazy afternoons, of dinners out and evenings at home, the two of them had become a couple. And Ren would introduce Lu Meng to the rest of his family at the Phoenix holiday bash. Meng, with those dark direct eyes, that easy grin, the subtle roughness of his five o'clock shadow -

- and a way of sending Ren's brain on a fast ride to dreamland. As he realized that Huang had swept a leg underneath him, Ren was already flipped over and about to get pinned.

Victorious, Huang let Ren off the mat. "I can't believe you fell for that one."

"Pfft. You got lucky." Ren grinned. "And it won't happen again."

As they squared off for another round, Ren took one last moment to savor how lucky he really was.

* * *

Cao Cao certainly knew how to throw a party. Good beer, good wine for those who preferred it, and an impressive spread of snacks to soak up the alcohol - everything from greasy cheesy fried favorites to the lighter fare that Xiahou Yuan scoffed at as rabbit food. And good company, which was the most important consideration of all. Most of Phoenix had showed up, bringing friends and family along as well. Throughout the restaurant, groups of people chattered about sports and business and any other random topics that crossed their minds. Lu Meng had fit right in, making some introductions before joining a discussion on ancient Rome. Even Xiahou Dun allowed himself to relax, cracking a smile when saying hello.

A smooth voice waylaid Cao Ren as he finished loading a plate of food. "There isn't much atmosphere to this place. Wouldn't you agree?"

Such a theatrical tone could only belong to one person. Zhang He wore some iridescent combination of loose-sleeved shirt and brightly patterned vest that he carried off with the panache of a peacock. His dark hair hung down his back in a sleek braid. He's unique sense of style served him well as a designer, especially when consulting for projects like that brownstone renovation. His ego could be done without, but his talent was worth the annoyance of putting up with it.

"People are enjoying themselves. That's all the atmosphere we need."

"Yes, but someone could have brought a touch of festivity. Lights, bows, perhaps a few ornaments for color."

Ren, who paid little notice to holiday decorations and never bothered with them at home, responded with a quizzical look. Sensing a better stage on which to present himself, Zhang He swanned off to a nearby conversation about some new exhibit at the art museum.

"Hey." Meng had broken away from his group and grabbed a drink for each of them. "I didn't mean to run off on you, but I couldn't resist."

"Quite understandable. Bian's one of a kind, isn't she?" Cao Cao's wife, a stylish, savvy woman who shared his magnetism and polyamorous interests, had pulled Meng into discourse with a question about the making of Emperor Nero's bathtub. He had responded with amusement at discussing his line of work at someone else's business party.

"Indeed she is. Cao's a fortunate man." Meng slipped an arm around Ren, squeezing his waist. "And so am I."

Ren raised a playful eyebrow. "So you're still coming home with me?"

Meng leaned in with a whisper that brought a shudder of anticipation. "I can't wait."

Catching their eye from across the room, Xiahou Yuan lifted his beer and hollered a greeting. Ren and Meng went over to join his group, which was gathered around the tail end of a hockey game on TV.

"Hey Refrigerator! You going to eat all that?" And with a disappointed glance at the sushi on Ren's plate - "Never mind."

Leave it to Yuan to trot out a relic from Ren's younger and bulkier years. "Hello would have sufficed."

"Oh! That's right. Where are my manners?"

"I never knew you had any." Ren grinned. "Meng, this is cousin Yuan. Good guy when he remembers that high school is over."

"Pleased to meet you." Yuan elbowed Ren in the arm, almost knocking over his plate. "And this one here's a good guy when he decides to live a little."

Meng laughed. "Oh, he does. We were just watching that special you suggested to him. Great stuff, I must say."

Said show was a demonstration of siege weapons, featuring a variety of catapults and explosives and battering rams - and even a cardboard cutout army getting annihilated by a massive Korean arrow launcher called a _hwacha_. Yuan had mainly praised the onscreen destruction, but the documentary included plenty of context about the technology and famous battles that it played a role in.

"So what did you like best - the history part or the part where everything went boom?"

"Both. We academic types have to blow off steam too." A moment later - "Sorry. That was bad."

Yuan guffawed. "That was nothing."

People drifted in and out of the conversation as it ran through more television talk and sympathy for whoever was stuck fixing up that shithole of a building. Still reeling from the stress of his recent hellish job, Yuan had bowed out of the bidding for that renovation. The rest of their group wandered away when the hockey game wrapped up, leaving just the three of them in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

Yuan cleared his throat. "This is going to sound a little rude, but I've got to ask."

Ren braced himself. Knowing Yuan, the impending thought would be a little rude in the way that a nuclear bomb was a little damaging. Any attempt to stop him would be futile because said thought was out of the chute and falling right on target.

"So...my cousin here. Is he a tightass in more ways than one, if you get my drift?"

Ren turned crimson, stuck between a choice of apology or admonition. Meng piped up before he could express either.

"I don't know about you, Yuan." Meng nodded downward. "But when you're me? Everyone's a tightass."

At a rare loss for words, Yuan gawped and blinked for a few long moments. Eventually he admitted defeat with a grin. "He's a keeper."

Ren clapped Meng on the shoulder. "I'll say." And he tried not to blush even further with thoughts best saved for a later that could not come soon enough.


	11. Surrender

When they had enough of out and about, Cao Ren and Lu Meng enjoyed time to themselves. Comfortably entwined, they lounged on the couch with a couple of beers on the table and something fun on TV. After the myths were busted, the junkyard wars concluded, or the jaunty host finished with his stint at the hog farm or the garbage dump or whatever unpleasant place of employment he had slogged through for the past hour, the guys slipped into each other's arms. Kisses deepened as their hands kneaded shoulders, stroked jawlines, took forays underneath shirts. Within it all was an ever-rising temptation that had seemed like too much too soon, though they ventured toward it with each lingering touch that dared to go a bit further.

The guys had made an early exit from the party, leaving under a guise of tiredness that Cao Cao bought with a knowing twinkle in his eye. Back at Ren's apartment, they did not even bother to kick off their shoes. They managed to shed their coats onto a nearby chair, but even that was a close call.

Meng's kisses were insistent, his embrace heady with the wooded scent of cologne. He worked Ren's shirt open, one slow button at a time, while Ren returned the patient favor. Ren roamed over the lean planes of Meng's torso as his companion explored his burly chest, the slight softness of his belly. They luxuriated in the contrast of smooth skin and coarse hair, thrilled at the peak of a nipple under a teasing thumb. Ren traced the trail leading down into Meng's slacks as his own felt more and more in the way, spurring him to whisper a most pertinent question.

"Stay the night?"

And the deft fingers unbuckling his belt provided all the answer he needed.


	12. The morning after

The sun was bright through the sheer bedroom curtains, the bed still cozy with last night's afterglow. Lu Meng nestled into his pillow with a contented sigh, basking in his recollection of the intimacy they had shared. From the looks of Cao Ren, curled up beside him with a beefy arm over the covers, Meng had not been the only one to fall asleep with a smile on his face.

A trill and a feline headbutt interrupted Meng's reverie. He rolled over, inviting Shadow to crawl onto his chest. The cat rumbled as Meng scratched his head. And he unwittingly returned the gesture, kneading Meng and poking claws into his bare skin.

"Ow. Watch it there, will you?"

"Welcome to my world." Waking up, Ren shuffled over to distract the cat's paws. "My apologies. He's overdue for a manicure."

"I think I can deal." Meng rubbed Shadow's back and was rewarded with a joyous flop that sent the cat tumbling off his chest. Catching his bearings on the edge of the mattress, Shadow saved face by jumping down to the floor. "So what do you want to do today? Besides the obvious, of course."

"I like the obvious," Ren murmured. He drew Meng into a long, slow kiss, his unclothed body tantalizing in its proximity.

"Don't tempt me."

"Why not?"

Meng's stomach growled, too impatient to wait for him to answer verbally.

"Good point." Ren disengaged and got out of bed. "Let me take care of that."

Ren strode off to the bathroom, giving Meng a full and glorious view. Broad and muscled, he certainly was thick in all the right places. When the shower roared to life, Meng thought about following. He decided to wait. Wedging them both into the compact stall would be more awkward than anything else, even for activities other than bathing.

Meng took his turn after Ren padded out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and droplets of water still caught in his spiky hair. As Meng dried himself and dressed in yesterday's clothing, the sizzling smell of breakfast emanated from the kitchen. He went in to find a vegetable omelet at the small table and another in progress on the stove. Poking at the skillet, Ren nodded for Meng to go ahead and eat.

"I hope it's all right."

"It's great." Having wolfed down half of his breakfast in a few big bites, Meng reminded himself to take it easy. "It beats my usual bowl of cereal by a long shot."

Ren sat down with his own plate. "Glad I can impress you."

"You always impress me."

"Then I hope I can keep that up."

Meng squeezed his companion's hand. "Oh, you'll do fine."

Ren smiled. "I think so, too."

**~ The End ~**


End file.
